Here we go again folks! I'm still working on the ending for the last one, and we're kicking off the next!
This is the first installment of @blockurator's latest Exquisite Corpse. I hope I will be forgiven for my verbosity: it is significantly longer than it was supposed to be. BUT it is really only the beginning of a story... and I am very curious to see where it goes! So I pass the baton now to @blueeyes8960. Write, my friend! Write like the wind!!!
Here are the future contributors to this story, in order:
@blueeyes8960, @blueteddy, @fromage, @angelurquiola, @blockurator, @sarez, @quillfire, @stever82, and @yestermorrow
A list of characters introduced in this first episode:
Elizabeth Lightwood, former celebrated artists' model and social butterfly; presently a corpse
Doctor Ludwig Von Glockenspiel
Helga, the maid
Lord Thimbleberry of Darbyshire upon Wexley-Haversham East
Inspector Posthaste of Scotland Yard
Lieutenant Jameson McWhisk of Scotland yard, Inspector Posthaste's assistant
Edmond Dantish, pauper, hanger on, and aspiring artist. In love with Elizabeth
Elizabeth's best friend, Pugnacia Arabesque
And now, we begin!
https://unsplash.com/photos/l2JpNQF_qDc
Glockenspiel's Experiment
It was after midnight when the knocking started at Doctor Von Glockenspiel's front door.
Nobody answered it of course. The maid, Helga, was getting on in years, and her hearing was starting to go. The butler, Alfredo, was away visiting his sister for the evening. But the knocks were applied persistently, and loudly, at regular intervals, and eventually the good doctor was sufficiently roused from his slumber to recognize that yes, it really was somebody at the door, and not just a dream.
He stumbled out of bed, shoved his feet into slippers, groped around for his housecoat, and shuffled downstairs, arriving at the entry hall just as Helga did. The two of them gazed at each other, bleary eyed and speechless.
"Who on earth could be knocking at this time of night, Doctor?" Helga asked in a whisper. Her voice quavered just slightly. "I've no idea Helga", the Doctor replied, "Let's find out."
He wheeled and strode to the door, stopping just in front of it. "Who are you?" he boomed at the closed door, with its multiple locks and deadbolts. "Are you demons? Nightwalkers? Ghouls?"
The knocking stopped, and there was a brief, stunned silence. Then: "N-no! We're..."
"Are you Nosferatu? Lycanthropes? Zombie marauders?"
"Doctor, we are..."
"ARE YOU", Von Glockenspiel interrupted, raising his voice even further, so that it echoed off the walls, making Helga flinch, "Burglars, rapists, assassins, or" (he shuddered) SOLICITORS?"
The voice on the other side of the wall did not respond for several moments, evidently waiting to see if the good doctor was quite done with his questions.Then:
"No. Unequivocally not. We are none of those. I am Lord Thimbleberry of Darbyshire upon Wexley-Haversham East. With me are several distinguished, fully alive human gentlemen, and one young woman in excellent health, whose characters I will happily vouch for. And also a corpse."
Von Glockenspiel and Helga exchanged glances.
"Good doctor, we know the hour is late", the voice continued. "By all rights, each of us should be safely tucked away in bed at this time of night, but alas, circumstances have interfered. Tragic circumstances. Sir, we implore you to help us. It is, of course, spur of the moment, but if you would be so kind as to offer us an audience, in this extremity, you would have, as reward, our undying gratitude, small recompense though it might be."
Von Glockenspiel sighed heavily, shot Helga a look, and began throwing back bolts and turning locks. Helga came forward to help him. Within a couple of minutes the door was opened to reveal the faces of their unexpected nocturnal visitors. Faces that betrayed extremes of agitation and worry, but nothing like malice.
Also faces that were very wet. Why? Because of the rain. Because it was raining. Because this was London and what did you expect? The doctor sighed, again, and beckoned them in. When they were all standing in the hall, doffing coats and hats and stomping boots, he looked around at them, scowling.
"Where is the corpse?", he demanded.
"In the carriage", answered Lord Thimbleberry, who appeared to be the spokesman for the group. "We didn't want to get it wet."
Von Glockenspiel glared at him. "Well, go on and get it then. That's why you're here, yes?"
Lord Thimbleberry nodded. Two of the men, an inspector and a lieutenant from Scotland yard, hurriedly put on their coats and walked out into the street to retrieve the body. They were back with it in a few minutes, and at the doctor's direction, brought it downstairs to the basement laboratory. The rest of the group, including Von Glockenspiel himself, followed them directly, except for Helga, who bustled off to the kitchen to get refreshments.
An hour later, they were still in the laboratory, sipping tea, and discussing things. The events of the evening had been relayed to the good doctor, and the specific nature of their request for help elucidated. It seemed that the corpse, one Elizabeth Lightwood, of the Kensington Lightwoods, grandniece of Dame Lucretia Lightwood, the celebrated London society occultist, and cousin to her notorious granddaughter and sometime assistant Clarissa Lightwood, had been a much sought-after artists' model and member of the upper strata of London society in good standing. She'd been poisoned, earlier in the evening, at a ball attended by well over one hundred members of the upper classes, including some of the aristocracy. Needless to say, Scotland Yard could not detain so many well-placed individuals at one time. The inspector and his Lieutenant had begun their investigation, but it had quickly become evident that it was not going to go anywhere. The case was just too wide open.
So they'd come, at Thimbleberry's suggestion, to seek Von Glockenspiel's help, because of course they'd all heard the rumors that he was working on a formula that could reanimate the deceased. Their hope was that, if revived, Elizabeth could solve the case for them by revealing the name of her murderer, or at least point them in the right direction.
Lord Thimbleberry was involved because he had hosted the party at which Ms. Lightwood had been murdered. The other two civilian members of the group were more involved emotionally than by circumstance. Pugnacia Arabesque, a plucky lass who'd been quite attached to Elizabeth, described herself as "Liza's very best friend". Edmond Dantish, a penniless young artist, also seemed much concerned for the corpse's welfare.
Von Glockenspiel gazed at Thimbleberry appraisingly. "I must warn you that this elixir of mine has never been used on a fresh human corpse. Only on dead animals. Results have been mixed, but yes, it does seem to have potential. If I use it on your corpse, I make no guarantees for what might happen. Things could, in point of fact, go very, very wrong."
Thimbleberry nodded. "we understand", he replied.
"Very well. " Von Glockenspiel stood up and walked to the exam table upon which Elizabeth's remains had been laid out. He pulled back the sheet that covered her face, and immediately drew a sharp breath, his eyes widening. "She's beautiful", he whispered. He turned to Edmond: "If this is any indication of the way she looked in life, it is no wonder you are so taken with her."
The young man blushed. Then he stood and approached the table slowly, as in a dream. He gazed down longingly at the woman laid out there, as if there were no one else in the room. "Even in death", he said softly, "her beauty is unmatched."
The doctor nodded. "Yes. She makes an exquisite corpse."
To be continued...
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